


Sparring

by IgnisCorde



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love, Love and Loss, PTSD, Sparring, Training, War, rowaelin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 21:25:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10369785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnisCorde/pseuds/IgnisCorde
Summary: Tumblr Prompt: Aelin is sparring with someone and is injured, she then has to calm down Rowan.





	

Aelin grinned a bit as she watched Connall slap Fenrys upside the head, the dark twin snarling as Fenrys laughed. It was refreshing to see them kid with each other in spite of the last month’s events. She shook her head and braced a hand on her hip. She still couldn’t believe she was standing there; in the sunlight, breathing, feeling, living.  
She had survived Maeve and Erawan, and now she stood in her Castle, watching her friends— her family train.  
A laugh escaped her lips, and Rowan, who had been leaning against a tree a few feet away from her, cocked a brow.  
“What?”  
She shook her head, “Nothing, nothing.”  
Rowan shoved of the tree, his eyes bright as he walked towards her. She took him in as he walked closer, his powerful body at a sort of ease she had rarely ever seen.  
“You know, Princess, you should be out there training.”  
She rolled her eyes, “First of all; I’m a Queen. Second of all; I was going to ask you if you wanted to spar, but since you’re being a pain in my ass, I’ll ask one of the twins.”  
He stepped closer, close enough that they shared breath, “Really?”  
Aelin hummed and slid a hand up his chest, over his shoulder. “Really.”  
His eyes danced, the green dark in the shade of the tree, and pang of love went through her. She laughed again and stood on her tiptoes, kissing the bow of his lips softly.  
“You know I can kick your ass,” she whispered against his skin.  
Rowan huffed a laugh, “Why do you think I love you so much?”  
With another laugh, she slanted her mouth against his, her other hand coming up to tangle in his hair. Rowan slipped a broad hand around her waist, his fingers making idle strokes along her back.  
Behind Rowan, there was a sharp wolf-whistle. Two guesses from whom it came.

“Break it up, love-birds, we’re out here to train, not fornicate!”  
Without breaking the kiss, she showed Fenrys her favorite finger, but Rowan too soon pulled away.  
“We did come out here to train,” he murmured against her. With a deep, dramatic sigh, she nodded, but gave him a quick peck on the lips before skipping over to where Connall and Fenrys stood, smirking.  
“Do I have to be extra careful with the Queen today, don’t want her injured before Corination?” Fenrys purred as she approached, that maddening smirk spreading across his face.  
“No, actually, I was hoping to go up against your brother,” she said as she drew the sword strapped against her back.  
Connall, the wise man, paled and scratched at his wrist. “Are you sure, Your Majesty? I—,” Aelin raised a hand to stop him.  
“I’ve been getting tired of playing with these ones, need some new blood in the monotony.”  
Rowan slid behind her, and she knew he knew what she was doing.  
Even since after she’d been liberated from Maeve and after Connall, Fenrys, and Vaughn had been freed from their bloodoaths, Connall had been…Distant.  
The male was kind, gentle for a warrior, and Aelin genuinely liked him. And he and Elide got on like wildfire, but he always seemed like he didn’t know whether or not he was wanted in her court.  
“Well, come on then,” she jutted her chin towards the center of the field they stood in. Connall swallowed and followed her, glancing once towards Fenrys.  
   
She paused at center, and smiled as Connall cautiously approached her, his own fine sword drawn.  
“Count of three?” She asked softly, watching out of the corner of her eye as Rowan and Fenrys sidled up to watch.  
Connall nodded, a strand of his inky black hair slipping out of its tie.  
“One.” she crouched lower. “Two.” Connall flipped his sword, the blade glinting in the light.  
“Three!” She struck.  
Rowan watched as Aelin struck first, Goldryn whining as it struck Connall’s blade. He grinned in delight as a look of shock spread across Con’s face. Why he was surprised, Rowan didn’t know. The male had seen Aelin take on armies of demons and survive.  
But, in his defense, Aelin had seemed much… Stronger since forging the Lock. Everything about her seemed amplified, her strength, her power, her magic, and even her beauty. Rowan crossed his arms as he watched the two whirl around each other, a few strands of Aelin’s golden hair slipping from its braid. She was beautiful, a storm of fire and ash and—

_Tan skin and ... Blood. There was so much blood. Too much._  
_She was dying— his mate. Rowan screamed again as he tore through the dying Valg that swarmed around his queen._ _No no no no. She was screaming his name, and he could feel her magic pouring out into the world desperately flowing towards Erawan and the Lock, but death loomed over his shoulder. The Golden Queen, bloodied and gaunt and dying and—_

“Rowan?”  
Shit. He’d done it again.  
Fenrys was glancing at him with a concerned look in his golden eyes.  
“You look like you zoned out for a moment.”  
Rowan shook his head, trying desperately to focus on the match before him and not that damned day.  
“Sorry, sorry, I was thinking.” He murmured, a faint flush creeping up his neck.  
He’d faced battles so terrifying, so blood-ridden he refused to allow himself to think about them, but still that battle…The carnage that reined. And Aelin— Never in his life would the image of Aelin’s body lying at his feet leave his mind.  
A loud grunt brought him back to attention as Connall advanced, swinging a leg out to trip Aelin, but she nimbly avoided it.  
“Don’t tell him, but I’m hoping Aelin beats his ass.”  
Rowan let out a low laugh, shifting on his feet as Connall twirled slashing at Aelin and missing only by a few inches.  
Aelin ran her eyes up and down the male before striking again; her blade making a neat arc through the air before striking Connall’s.  
Neither of them had landed a hit yet.  
“Rowan trained you, didn’t he?”  
Connall paused for a moment when Aelin said that, as if remembering Rowan had trained the queen as well.  
Rowan watched in amusement as Aelin used that momentary pause to her advantage, swinging out a leg then—

Aelin let out a groan as Connall’s blade slid through the side of her thigh, the blood already spurting from the wound.  
She hadn’t even seen him move.  
Shit.  
Connall dropped his blade, his hands sliding beneath her arms before she could collapse.  
“Your majesty¬— I am so— Oh, gods, I’m.”  
He didn’t have a chance to finish before Rowan was there, practically shaking with rage.  
“What the hell!” He roared as ran near, almost shoving Connall away from her. She would’ve rolled her eyes, had a wave of sickening nausea not rolled over her. Blood loss.  
“Lay her down!” Rowan barked, a hand going out to brush the leather of her pants.  
“Ro’, I’m fine. Just a flesh wound.”  
Rowan didn’t listen, he just came to her side as Connall laid her down, the faces of the three males loomed over her as Rowan crouched down. Her mate stretched out his hands over the wound, a faint tingling moving through the wound as he healed her.  
“What the hell were you thinking?” Rowan growled again, and something sifted within her at the ire in his pine eyes.  
“Rowan, he didn’t mean to—”  
“No! He should have been able to stop, he struck his own queen!”  
Aelin sat up, already feeling back to normal. She glanced down at her leg; the wound was barley a scar now.  
“Rowan! Calm. Down.” She gritted out through clenched teeth.  
Rowan locked his eyes on hers, and she saw the panic, the sheer terror within.  
Rowan glanced down at his hands, now covered with her blood, and sucked in a shallow breath.  
His hands began to shake over her; those mighty, strong hands.  
She threw a look to Fenrys and Connall, who were now watching them with concerned eyes.  
“Go,” she said softly.  
With a nod, Fenrys seized Connall’s arm and winnowed off.  
When they had gone, Rowan jerked up, fisting hands in his hair. His breathing was shallow as he paced away.  
“Too much blood. Too much.” He mumbled, his eyes squeezed shut.  
She stood slowly, walking towards him with her hands outstretched.  
“Rowan.” She murmured softly, the wind stirring the grasses along the edge of the field.  
He shook his head again, his breathing getting quicker.  
His panic was making her heartrate pick up.  
“Too much,” he groaned.  
She crossed the distance between them, reaching up a trembling hand to slid it over his chest. His heart was thundering.  
“Look at me, Rowan.” She commanded.  
He sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes. She made herself calm down, willing her heart to settle.  
“Give me your hand, Rowan.”  
Rowan lowered his arms, hesitantly slipping a hand into hers. She made sure he saw each movement she made as she took his trembling hand and guided it to her chest; right over her heart.  
“Do you feel that? I am alive. I am fine.” Her voice was soft; more reassuring than she felt.  
Rowan’s fingers contracted and uncontracted over her chest, and she stepped closer.  
“You’re not going to lose me again, Rowan. I’m not leaving you.”  
Her mate loosed a shuddering breath, “You died, Aelin.”  
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I did. But I’m here now, we’re together.”  
Rowan began to slow his breathing, his eyes calming.  
“I— I keep seeing you laying there. I keep seeing you dead, and— I keep feeling you die.”  
A single tear slipped down his face, and Aelin reached up a hand, wiping it away.  
“I keep seeing the blood covering you, and I can’t breathe—I can’t focus on anything besides the blood. There was so much blood.”  
A deep breath.  
“And the damned cut on your leg and the blood. I’m sorry, I—”  
She placed a finger on his open lips in a hushing motion. “Don’t apologize. I get them too.”  
Rowan cocked his head a bit. “Them?”  
Aelin looked toward the Castle, the silver and green banners whipping in the summer wind.  
“I get the nightmares, the flashes of the War, the memories of being in the coffin.”  
She didn’t like thinking about it, but those memories… they would always remain. But she’d heal, and so too would Rowan, and her people and the lands and her friends. They would heal.  
Rowan very methodically wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and pressing his brow to hers.  
“We’re going to get through this, Fireheart.”  
She smiled up at him— a real, lovely smile, one she knew he loved.  
“We always relish in beating the odds.”  
A laugh warmed her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around his waist.  
“I love you.”  
“I love you, too. To whatever end.”


End file.
